


Between the Rain and the Sun

by almostannette



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, Soulmate AU, Underage Drinking, bc 17 yo twinks think they can hold their liquor but really can't, street musician Elio, you can only see colors if you've met your soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-04-22 12:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette
Summary: Soulmate!AUElio lifts the handkerchief away from his nose and gives it a critical look. He blinks, once, and holds the handkerchief out to Oliver. “Please tell me you see it, too,” Elio whispers.The blood on the handkerchief that he’d expected to be dark, almost black...it’s not. Oliver has never seen the color before, but he knows its name. Blood is red, that’s what he’s been taught at school. Blood is red, but only for people who've met their soulmate.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Oliver's parents discovered that he was queer shortly after he graduated from high school and he was disowned. Thus, he never got to go to college and, consequently, also did not go to Crema. However, fate has ways to bring soulmates together, and so in this story, Elio goes to New York, instead.
> 
> **Edit:** A special thank you to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading!

 

 

_When the Prince’s hand touched Snow White’s for the first time, the scales fell from his eyes and her beauty increased tenfold. She was now as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as ebony. For the Prince and Snow White were soulmates and were able to see colors from that moment on._

The Brothers Grimm, Snow White

**1 - Red**

**New York City, Summer 1983**

The first time Oliver sees him, he’s on his way home from his day job. Normally, he wouldn’t notice just another street musician, but there’s _something_ about the scrawny kid with the dark, curly hair he can’t quite put his finger on. Whatever it is, it’s strong enough to make him stop to listen to him play his guitar.

Not that he would ever presume to know much about music, but from the way the boy’s fingers effortlessly pluck the strings, he must be a natural, even at his young age. The kid can’t be much older than eighteen, at the very most.

Oliver hadn’t been much older when he’d been disowned and thrown out of the house, for having been caught kissing another boy, just a few weeks after his high school graduation.

“You like it?”

Oliver blinks. It takes him a second to realize that the kid has stopped playing to talk to him. “Yeah, I like it. Why?”

“Thought you didn’t,” the kid says and holds up his guitar. “You’ve been making this face for, like, five minutes,” he adds and puts on a stern, pinched expression.

Oliver scratches the back of his neck. “Well, you’re wrong. I like it,” he says. “Maybe I’m just not very good at showing it.”

“Maybe,” the kid replies with a shrug and plays a few notes. “You know, there’s an easy way to show it if you like my music,” he adds and pointedly looks to the open guitar case at his feet.

Oliver laughs and shakes his head as he takes out his wallet and drops most of his loose change into the guitar case. He locks eyes with the kid as he puts his wallet back into his pocket; his own grin is possibly even wider than the guitarist’s.

As much as he would like to stay and watch the kid play, he should really get home. He was hoping to take a nap before he has to get ready for his shift at the bar.

Belatedly, he realizes he’s still smiling at the kid.

“Later,” he says before the situation can become more awkward than it is. Oliver gave him money, so the kid has a good reason to smile. He, on the other hand, is grinning like an idiot for no good reason at all.

“What do you mean, ‘later’?” the kid asks.

“‘Later’, as in, see you later,” Oliver explains. He picked up that particular mannerism from his father - he hopes it’s the only thing he got from the man.

“Oh,” the kid says and nods to himself. “Later,” he echoes Oliver’s words.

“Later,” Oliver repeats. It’s surprisingly difficult to turn his back on the kid and walk away just like that. He forces himself not to overthink it - the kid is cute and talented, that’s all there is.

* * *

The next day, Oliver is surprised to see the kid standing in the exact same spot as yesterday, playing his guitar. A handful of people are listening to him. The boy seems completely engrossed in his task.

Oliver got decent tip money yesterday and can afford to give some to the kid in exchange for music. He’s approaching the small crowd and suddenly, the kid’s head snaps up. His whole face lights up when he spots Oliver.

Oliver feels himself return the smile and greets the kid with a wave of his hand.

He stays a couple of minutes to listen to him play and drops some of his change in the guitar case again.

While he's playing, the kid glances up at Oliver a bit too frequently for it to be a coincidence. Like yesterday, he catches himself thinking that he would like to stay forever, just to watch the kid play his guitar.

After another piece, the kid stops playing and the little crowd starts to disperse. Oliver stays behind as the kid counts the change in his guitar case. It’s not much, Oliver can verify that with a surreptitious look, but enough to buy a hot meal or two.

“You came back,” the kid says, once he finishes counting the money.

Oliver isn’t sure if it sounds like an accusation or a question. “This is my way home from work,” he replies. “If anything, _you_ came back.”

The kid fidgets and his cheeks darken just a little. Is he blushing? “It worked, didn’t it,” the kid mumbles.

“Depends,” Oliver says, stepping a little closer. The kid has to look up ever so slightly to meet his gaze now. He’s got a good five inches on the boy. “If you picked this spot again in the hopes of seeing me again, then I’d say it worked.” The kid’s blush intensifies. It looks lovely, Oliver thinks. Maybe he likes seeing the kid all flustered a bit too much, but this is just some harmless conversation. He’s not doing anything that could get him in trouble. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You stayed to listen again,” the kid counters and meets his gaze, challenging him.

“Guilty as charged,” Oliver says. “I happen to like music.”

“Yeah? Name the last piece I was playing!” the kid demands.

Now it’s Oliver’s turn to be flustered. Confessing that he wasn’t so much listening to the music as watching him play would be creepy, so he pretends that he’s heard it before, the name is on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t remember it right now.

“You’re a bad liar,” the kid says and Oliver pretends to be offended before they both burst out laughing.

“I’m Elio,” the kid introduces himself once they have both recovered from their respective laughing fits.

“I’m Oliver,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

* * *

Listening to Elio play his guitar for passersby quickly becomes a regular part of Oliver’s day. Whenever Oliver comes home from his day job, Elio stands on his usual spot and Oliver stops to listen to him play. Oliver gives him whatever change he can spare and if he doesn’t have to prepare for a shift at the bar, he stays and talks to Elio for a while.

Their chats tend to revolve around nothing specific, mostly they talk about which books they’ve read and what sort of bands they like - Oliver once spent a good ten minutes defending his love for the Psychedelic Furs to Elio. So far, he has learned that Elio is not originally from New York, he’s only  been here for a couple of weeks, and that he’s Jewish, like Oliver. (The day after that particular conversation, Oliver pretended not to notice that Elio started wearing a necklace with the exact same Star of David pendant that he himself wears.)

Other than that, he doesn’t know anything about the kid’s living situation. Oliver himself recalls what being stranded in New York felt like, but he’d had his older sister and her soulmate to help him find his way. He just hopes that Elio has people who care about his well-being.

About a week after he first met Elio, he’s grinning to himself and walks with a spring in his step.

His shift is about to end.

“Do you have a date later? Who’s the lucky one?” his co-worker Stella asks him.

“What?” he asks and furrows his brows.

“Are you going on a date? You look so happy, I just thought…?”

“No,” he replies and shuffles his feet. “I mean, I’m looking forward to seeing someone, but it’s not a date. It can’t be.”

“Oh,” she says, eyes wide. “Is it…?”

“He’s cute,” Oliver mumbles. “But I shouldn’t…,” he trails off and eventually says that they’re just friends, so he doesn’t have to explain why he feels so excited to talk to some kid he met only a week ago. Oliver isn’t even sure if he himself knows the answer to that question.

Stella nods. “If you need anything, remember you can always talk to me,” she says.

“Thank you,” he says and means it. They quickly became friends when she’d started working at the store. Stella is the only person at his day job who knows he likes men. Like him, she hasn’t met her soulmate yet, and they have spent more than one drunk night wondering if, how, and when they would meet their other halves.

“Still, I hope you have fun,” she says. “Even if he’s just a friend.”

Once Oliver gets to their regular meeting spot, Elio isn’t there. He tells himself he’s not disappointed or worried, but he still asks whether a skinny, dark-haired teenager with a guitar has been at the park earlier today. Maybe he just missed him - but that seems unlikely. By now, they’ve already established a routine and Elio knows when Oliver gets off work.

After his questions lead him to no conclusive answers, he walks home, more frazzled than he’d like to admit. The simple fact that Elio didn’t show up shouldn’t preoccupy him so much - there is bound to be a perfectly logical explanation for Elio’s absence. Perhaps he’s feeling a bit under the weather, or he’s found another spot, where people are more likely to stop and listen to him play.

Or, an insidious voice whispers, maybe he’s chosen another spot so he doesn’t have to see you again. Did Oliver make him uncomfortable without noticing it? He’d thought Elio enjoyed their little chats as much as he did, but what if he didn’t, what if he was simply nice to him, but didn’t actually like being around Oliver? He doesn’t believe that to be the case, but he might have misread the situation. Not returning to their usual spot might have been Elio’s way of bidding Oliver good riddance.

He’s unusually distracted during his shift at the bar and mixes up some orders to the annoyance of both the guests and his boss. It’s embarrassing. He goes to bed in the morning asking himself if Elio even suspects what sort of power he has over Oliver.

* * *

It’s Monday, and Oliver contemplates taking another, longer way home from work, just so he can avoid passing by what he’s come to refer to as “Elio’s spot” in his mind and find it empty.

Pull yourself together, he tells himself and takes the usual route home, head held high, pretending he’s not anxious. It almost works, but his hands are trembling and he shoves them deep into the pockets of his jeans to hide the evidence of his insecurity.

The closer he gets to Elio’s spot, the more constricted his throat feels. He has to concentrate on taking slow, regular breaths.

His heart skips a beat when he spots Elio up ahead and it takes more effort than he would ever want to admit not to break out into a run at the sight of him. Instead, he leisurely walks up to the kid.

Elio spots him and grins, as usual. Oliver didn’t realize how much he missed Elio’s smile until this very moment. Elio quickly finishes the piece he was playing - a shame, Oliver liked it and would have wanted to hear more of it. Elio puts away the guitar and runs his hand through his hair a couple of times. “Hi,” he says.

“You came back,” Oliver says, inwardly kicking himself for pointing out the obvious.

“Mmmh,” Elio confirms and looks up at Oliver with what could be a mischievous expression. “Did you miss me?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He doesn’t want to think about what his reply might be, and so he just mirrors Elio’s smirk. Wouldn’t you like to know, it seems to say. “Where have you been?” he asks.

“At home, they were wondering what I was doing all day,” Elio says and grimaces. “Well, not at home, really, but…”

“You didn’t tell them?” he asks and gestures to the guitar that Elio still holds. It forms a barrier between him and the world, Oliver thinks, it keeps anyone from getting too close. Why would Elio not want to disclose that he’s found an income source? Because otherwise he would not be allowed to keep the little change he earns for himself?

Elio shakes his head, packs the guitar into its case and sits down on a bench. Oliver takes a seat, too, careful not to sit too close to Elio. Making him uncomfortable is the last thing he wants. “I don’t know what I should tell them,” he says and pats the guitar case. “I like playing and if I can make some money on the side, why not? It’s not like I can just ask my parents to give me money these days,” Elio adds and shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but he doesn’t meet Oliver’s eyes and he blinks a couple times in rapid succession. It’s enough to confirm that something isn’t quite right, not that he didn’t suspect that anyway.

“Are they giving you a hard time?” he asks, careful not to be too specific.

“I’m staying with relatives, actually,” Elio replies. “It’s complicated,” he trails off, fidgeting a little.

“It’s alright, I get it,” Oliver says and resists the urge to pull Elio into a hug. He looks like he could use some comfort. “You don’t have to say anything else.”

Elio takes a deep breath and gives him a look of relief. “Thanks.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you,” Oliver says and asks Elio about his music to change the topic. Just as he’d expected, Elio launches into a passionate monologue about his favorite composers and his least favorite music teachers. Oliver can’t say that he understands everything, but it’s nice to see Elio happy and carefree again.

He’s about to say something to that effect, too, when Elio suddenly stops in the middle of the sentence and curses. His hands fly to his nose.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asks, alarmed.

“Nosebleed,” Elio says and curses again. “Do you have…?” he begins, but Oliver is already pressing a handkerchief into Elio’s hands. Their fingers touch when Elio takes the handkerchief from him. His fingers are warm and the tips of them are just a little rough from the guitar strings. It feels nice, Oliver thinks, and forces himself to focus before he can get any more sentimental.

Elio lifts the handkerchief away from his nose and gives it a critical look. He blinks, once, and holds the handkerchief out to Oliver. “Please tell me you see it, too,” Elio whispers.

Oliver doesn’t have to ask what he means.

It’s obvious.

The blood on the handkerchief that he’d expected to be dark, almost black...it’s not. Oliver has never seen the color before, but he knows its name. Blood is red, that’s what he’s been taught at school. Blood is red, but only for a certain group of people.

“I see it, too,” Oliver says, slightly overwhelmed. “We...we’re…”

“Soulmates,” Elio finishes for him. “We’re soulmates."


	2. Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [@binary-suunset](https://binary-suunset.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing cheerleader! And, once again, a special thank you to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for taking the time to beta-read this chapter!

_ During the last decade, several studies have confirmed what humanity has suspected since the dawn of time: The deeper the emotional connection you have with your soulmate, the more colors you two are able to see. _

The Soulmate Handbook: What To Do When You Meet the One  by A. L. Odessky

**2 - Orange**

The revelation that they were soulmates left them both speechless for a long moment before they started to talk. Especially Elio had been like a waterfall at first, and Oliver had to fight to get a word in. ‘Overwhelmed’ didn’t even begin to describe his state of mind.

They had decided to have dinner together, to get to know each other better and to see if they were compatible. “Of course we are,” Elio said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be…” He hesitated. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be  _ soulmates _ .”

Still, even though they mutually assured each other that their dinner would  _ not  _ be a date, Oliver can’t remember ever having been this nervous before an actual date as he gets ready for spending the evening with Elio. It doesn’t matter much what he wears, he’s not trying to impress anyone. (Except, of course he is, but he won’t let himself think that, just yet.)

So far, they haven’t been able to see any color besides red in its various shades and Elio confessed that he started to feel a bit anxious. “Are we doing it wrong?” he asked yesterday. “Should we… you know… uh, work on our connection more?”

Oliver calmed him. It was alright, these things took time. It had taken his sister and her soulmate a full month until they’d seen another color. “I think we’re doing just fine.”

Speaking of his sister, she was elated when Oliver phoned her and told her he’d met his soulmate. He felt sorry to dampen her enthusiasm when she suggested he bring them over. “He’s only seventeen,” he said.

“Oh,” Hannah said. “That complicates things.”

“You’re telling me?”

She followed it up with advice that to take it slow, to give Elio time to adjust to the new situation.

“What kind of person do you think I am?” Oliver asked, forcing himself to laugh and act relaxed. “Of course I wouldn’t… think about it, who meets their soulmate at seventeen? I know that he needs time to get used to the idea of… of me.”

Elio deserves the best and Oliver can’t shake the feeling that he is not it. He can’t imagine that Elio is very thrilled at the idea of having a soulmate who, despite being seven years older than him, is still very much trying to find his place in the world. Not that he wants to share his insecurities with Elio, he doesn’t want to come across as doubting their relationship before it has even truly begun. No, they can make this work, he tells himself again and again, as if only thinking it often enough is going to make it magically come true.

“I asked him out for dinner,” Oliver told Hannah to change the topic. He’d already revealed too much.

“Doing this properly, huh?” she asked. “You haven’t told  _ them _ , have you?”

“I met my soulmate, that doesn’t mean I lost my mind,” Oliver answered.

“Didn’t think so,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure. I mean, what with all the euphoria… I shouldn’t have told them, it would have saved us a lot of stress.”

“To be honest, I think I’m more scared than euphoric,” he admitted.

“Don’t be,” she said. “Just give yourselves time to get to know each other and it’ll all be fine.”

Which brings him back to his not-date with Elio tonight.

* * *

They meet on  _ their _ spot in the park. Elio has chosen to wear a red shirt and Oliver can’t help but smile when he sees him. The color suits him well. Can he tell Elio that he looks cute, or is it too early for that?

They look at each other awkwardly - how are they supposed to greet each other, now that they’re not yet friends, but also something much more than friends?

“I like your shirt,” Oliver says eventually to break the silence.

“Thanks,” Elio answers and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment. Oliver wonders if Elio knows what an effect this gesture has on him. “I like  _ you _ ,” Elio adds and they both start laughing.

Together, they walk to the restaurant Oliver picked out – he would have let Elio choose, but his soulmate had insisted that Oliver pick the restaurant. “You’ve been living here longer than I have, you know what’s good and what’s not.”

Oliver could hardly argue with that. He can’t afford to take Elio out to a fancy restaurant, even though he wants to. Someday, he vows to himself, he’ll have enough money to afford all the luxuries he wants Elio to have.

On their way to the restaurant, their hands bump against each other in a way that Oliver thinks is not quite accidental. He doesn’t take Elio’s hand, but he links their pinkies together and Elio’s rubs the pad of his thumb over Oliver’s pulse point.

It feels nice.

Dinner goes surprisingly well – Elio proves to have a large appetite. Oliver points it out and his cheeks take on a faint, red hue. “I was so nervous I couldn’t eat anything all day,” Elio admits. He worries his teeth over his bottom lip again. His lips are starting to look red and it drives Oliver half mad.

“This soulmate thing,” Elio begins again, “Please tell me I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to… be a good soulmate, I guess?”

Oliver reaches across the table and rests one of his hands on Elio’s. “I have no idea, either,” he admits with a sheepish expression. “But I’m looking forward to figuring it out together.”

The relieved smile Elio gives him and the way he squeezes his hand is enough to have Oliver grinning like a fool.

“Do you want dessert?” Elio asks after they finished their main courses.

“I’m not really hungry anymore,” Oliver answers.

Elio says he doesn’t want dessert, either.

“By the way, when do you need to be home?”

“I don’t know,” Elio says. “I don’t think they care,” he adds and frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb, but… I miss my parents. It was my decision to come to New York, but I miss them.”

“It’s not dumb at all. Sometimes I miss my parents, too,” Oliver tells him. “It’s natural. Still, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to ruin the evening…”

“You didn’t,” Elio is quick to say.

“You know what helps me when I feel down? Dancing.”

“Dancing?” Elio asks. “Where?”

“I know this bar…”

“I’m not twenty-one,” Elio reminds him. “I don’t have a fake ID.”

“Lucky for you, then, that you’ve got me, isn’t it?” Oliver says with a grin. “I can get you in. It’s the bar where I’m working. Today’s my free night, but I know everyone and as long as you’re with me, they won’t mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Oliver picks up the check, while Elio looks vaguely guilty. He smiles at him to make him understand it’s okay, between the two of them he's the one with jobs and a regular salary. He wouldn't expect Elio to pay for anything, not when he just has the money he earns from guitar playing.

“Are you  _ really  _ sure that they’re going to let me in?” Elio asks. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to keep you from having fun.”

“If they don’t, we’ll just go to my apartment, turn on the radio and dance there,” Oliver shrugs, laughing at his own joke. “At least until the neighbors start complaining.”

“You’d take me home?” Elio asks, completely serious, his voice breaking near the end of the sentence.

“I… shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like…” Oliver trails off. “I didn’t want to sound like I’m just trying to get you into my bed.”

Elio looks to the side and clears his throat. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to get me into your bed?”

“Well,” Oliver says and finishes his soda in two large gulps to fight the sudden dryness in his mouth. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good,” Elio mumbles. “Dancing first, though?”

* * *

Just as he predicted, Simon, the bouncer, just waves them through, after Oliver explained why he showed up at his workplace on his day off. The sly grin he aims at Oliver tells him that he is going to have to answer more than a couple of questions about Elio in the future.

Still, they get in. Since Oliver towers over nearly all the patrons, he steers them through the crowd, holding Elio’s hand so he won't lose him.

After they have had few drinks, Oliver talks to the DJ. Elio gives him a questioning look but rolls his eyes once the DJ puts on a new track.

“Really?” he shouts.

Oliver throws his head back, laughing, and begins to dance in earnest to his favorite song.

Elio manages to keep his annoyed face for approximately five seconds before he also starts to dance.

The last beats of “Love My Way” aren’t yet over when Elio reaches up and slings his arms around Oliver’s neck.

“Thank you for taking me here!” It’s probably meant to be heartfelt and sincere, but Elio is drunk, the music is loud and so he shouts it into Oliver’s ear.

He still thinks it’s adorable.

Having Elio so close to him is more intoxicating than any drink or drug he’s ever tried. Elio angles his head just so, leans in, and their lips are touching. It’s a messy kiss, uncoordinated and sloppy, and it’s still the best first kiss Oliver has ever had.

* * *

Elio leans against Oliver’s side, and Oliver keeps an arm around his waist, mostly to keep him steady. “I’m drunk,” Elio slurs and doubles over, laughing out loud. “Fuck, I’m  _ so  _ drunk.”

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Oliver says and helps him stand straight again. “Where do you…” he begins but has a better idea. “We’ll go to my place. You can sleep it off there and go home in the morning.”

Or in the afternoon, judging by the state of his inebriation. Elio will likely have a hangover in the morning.

Elio stops, tilts his head up, and squints at Oliver. “You’re just trying to get me into your bed,” he says and cackles. “You’re just trying to get me into your bed!”

“Maybe if you weren’t drunk,” Oliver says under his breath, but Elio doesn’t hear over the sound of his own laughter.

The fact that Elio is a loud, obnoxious drunk doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. At least he’s mostly sober so they’re not completely lost and don’t risk being arrested. He feels a pleasant buzz, but he’s still level-headed enough to get them home.

He even manages to fit his key in the lock on just the second try, and while he doesn’t feel too drunk, he’s still buzzed enough to not feel anxious about the fact that this is the first time Elio will see his apartment.

He kicks the door shut behind them and Elio clings to him, trailing wet kisses up and down his neck until he suddenly stops and takes a step backward.

Oliver asks what’s wrong, but the question would not have been necessary. He manages to show Elio the way to the bathroom just in time.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Elio says afterward and hides his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Oliver says, flushes the toilet, and hands Elio some mouthwash. “ _ I’m _ sorry, I should have paid more attention to how much you were drinking.”

Elio groans, but takes the mouthwash with a grateful expression.

“You’re welcome.”

Elio washes out his mouth and splashes his face with cold water. “I think I need to lie down.”

Oliver guides him to the bedroom and gently helps him under the covers. “Don’t fall asleep just yet,” he says and leaves the room for his tiny kitchenette. He fills a glass with water and brings it to him. “Drink up,” he says, handing Elio the glass. “You’ll have less of a hangover.”

Elio doesn’t question it and drinks the water.

“If you need to… well, you already know where the bathroom is.” Elio doesn’t answer and he buries his head in the pillow. “Hey, like I said, it’s okay. It happens to everyone…”

Elio mumbles something into the pillow.

“What did you say?”

“This was an awful end for a first date,” Elio says, lifting his head a little. “I’m sorry.” He lets his head drop down on the pillow again.

“It wasn’t awful at all,” Oliver protests.

Elio huffs but doesn’t react otherwise.

Oliver reaches out and runs a hand through Elio’s hair. “Sweet dreams,” he says before he leaves the bedroom and returns to the bathroom. He takes a shower to get rid of the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke that clings to his skin.

He dries off with his dark red towel - it might be his favorite hue of red, so far, second only to the color of Elio’s lips when they’re all plump and swollen from kissing.

He gets dressed again in pajama bottoms. After the shower, his head feels clear enough to look around and notice the state his bath is in, the state his entire apartment is in. He didn’t plan on bringing Elio home tonight, so he didn’t clean up beforehand. Not that he’s particularly messy, but worn clothes are strewn all over the apartment (he’ll have to do laundry, soon, he reminds himself) and it all gives off the impression of a bachelor pad.

He should be further ahead in life, especially now that he's met his teenaged soulmate, who might need a place to stay if his relatives decide they don't want to put up with him any longer. Oliver feels completely unprepared to deal with such a situation - he knows that, given enough time, the infatuation he feels for Elio is going to blossom into something more and he’ll want to give Elio the world, he can feel it. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to achieve that.

He goes to the kitchen and drinks a glass of water, too.

He sets the empty glass in the sink and checks the bedroom. Elio looks fast asleep. His mouth fell open and he’s drooling on Oliver’s pillow. He shouldn’t find it as adorable as he does.

With Elio asleep in his bed, Oliver has to resort to the couch tonight. They are soulmates, but he doesn’t think that they already reached the stage at which he could just slip into bed with Elio without potentially making things awkward. Oliver tries to get comfortable on the couch and fails miserably - it’s too small and narrow to accommodate his body, made for lazing around in front of the TV, not for getting a good night’s sleep. He should have made Elio take the couch, he thinks. He would have fit comfortably.

Despite the discomfort, the remaining alcohol in his system makes him feel drowsy and he must have fallen asleep, eventually, because the next thing he knows is that he’s being woken up by insistent meowing that’s coming from just outside his window.

He groans and rubs his eyes. Relieved as he is to not have a headache, his muscles are feeling sore as though he’d spent three hours at the gym yesterday. He’s never going to sleep on the couch again if he can help it.

“Good morning,” he mumbles as he lets the cats in and prepares some food and water for them.

The bedroom door opens and Elio pads out of the room, squinting at him.

“Shit, sorry, did I wake you?”

Elio shrugs and mumbles a good morning. “You got cats? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“They’re not really my cats,” Oliver says. “They sort of picked me as their can opener, if you know what I mean? This is Alexander.” He gestures to the smaller cat with the lighter fur. “And this is Hephaistion,” he says, pointing to the larger, darker cat. “They started visiting me a couple of weeks after I moved in.”

Elio looks interested and crouches down, trying to get the cats to acknowledge his presence.

Oliver sets the plate with the cat food down on the floor, while both cats are rubbing their heads against his calves. It takes a bit of effort not to trip.

“They’re cute,” Elio says and watches them eat, transfixed.

“Guess I have a habit of picking up strays,” Oliver says.

Elio looks up at him with a frown. “What does  _ that _ mean? You think I’m a stray?”

“I didn’t say that.” Oliver takes the bowl of water and places it on the floor, too. Since he has to bend down for it, it brings him eye to eye with Elio.

“Technically.”

“What?”

“You technically didn’t say that you think of me as a stray. But you sure meant it.”

“Semantics,” Oliver says. “Did you sleep well? If you've got a headache, I have some aspirin.”

Elio raises his eyebrows, clearly not impressed with Oliver’s avoidance tactic, but he lets it go after a second. “I wouldn't say no to an aspirin,” he admits. “Or two.”

“Two aspirin it is, then,” Oliver says and gets the medicine from the cabinet. When he returns to the kitchen, Elio has crouched down on the floor, petting Alexander with one hand. The cat’s purr is so loud that even Oliver can hear it, standing a couple of feet away. However, there are two claw marks on Elio’s arm, red and angry against his otherwise pale skin. “Shit, sorry, I should have told you. Hephaistion doesn’t like to be petted.”

Elio turns his head and stands up, after scratching Alexander behind the ears one last time. “I figured. But he’s still cute,” he says and thanks him for the aspirin. He swallows the pills dry after washing his hands to get rid of any cat hair. “I could use some band-aids, too,” he grudgingly admits and shows his arm to Oliver.

After taking care of Elio’s wounds, Oliver checks his fridge. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “I don’t have too much, but I could make us breakfast.”

Elio doesn’t answer, but looks at him, skeptically.

“I promise, I’m a decent cook, I’ve been cooking for myself since I was eighteen,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

Elio doesn’t look at him and starts fiddling with the band-aids covering his forearm. “I ruined it, didn’t I? I ruined everything and you’re letting me down easy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act as if you don’t know,” Elio replies and crosses his arms in front of his chest, trying to appear… what, intimidating? It has the opposite effect.

“Is it because you drank too much? Is that’s what’s bothering you?”

The slump of Elio’s shoulders tells him everything he needs to know. “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t ruin anything,” Oliver says and reaches for Elio’s hands, coaxing him to unravel his arms. “This stuff happens,” he says and runs his thumbs over Elio’s palms. “I  _ work _ at a bar, believe me, I’ve seen much worse. You have nothing to blame yourself for. If anything, you could blame me, I should have paid more attention…”

Elio shakes his head. He makes no move to pull his hands back to himself. “We’re soulmates,” he says. “This was our first date. It should have been more… it should have been perfect.”

“Things don’t have to be perfect to be good,” he says. “And I think it was a good first date, okay?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he says and smiles.

“Can you kiss me?” Elio asks and his voice breaks at the end of the sentence, turning it into a broken whisper. “Please?”

“Of course,” Oliver says and he has just a moment to appreciate the fact that his own voice does  _ not _ break, that his hands don’t shake, as he releases Elio’s hands in favor of cupping his face. Elio’s eyes flutter closed as he swipes a finger over his mouth and his red, red tongue darts out for just a second to give it a curious lick.

He leans in and it’s more real, more terrifying than their first kiss in the club. There’s no alcohol in his system, no thumping bass he could feel in his belly, there is just him and his soulmate. Elio tilts his head up, their mouths meet, and Oliver closes his eyes.

Looking back, he doesn’t clearly remember how it happened, but Elio’s sitting on the kitchen counter, Oliver is standing between Elio’s spread legs and their kissing escalated into a full-fledged make-out session.

The one thing that brings them both back from their high is the incessant meowing of the cats. Reluctantly, Oliver pulls away and Elio immediately frowns and tries to pull him back. “I’ll just let them out,” he says, gesturing to the cats. “Then we can get back to…” he trails off.

“What?” Elio demands.

“The cat,” Oliver says. “The color… you can see it, can’t you?”

Hephaistion’s fur is a new color, the medium gray Oliver was used to seeing has become something new, something that looks a bit like red, but is distinctly different, too. Lighter, somehow, but also not as flashy.

“It looks really pretty,” Elio says. “Any idea what the color is called? It’s close to red, so maybe it’s orange?”

Oliver opens his fridge and holds up the pack of orange juice he has. It’s almost the same color, but more garish than Hephaistion’s fur. “You’re right. Orange it is.”

Elio laughs, takes the pack of orange juice from Oliver’s hands, and sets it aside. Still smiling, he reaches for him and pulls him in for a kiss. “What did you say? It took your sister and her soulmate a month until they could see another color?” Elio’s hands find their way to Oliver’s hair and muss it up. “We’re doing well, then, aren’t we?”

Oliver just has enough time to say that he thinks so, too, when Elio shuts him up with another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oliver named the cats after Alexander the Great and Hephaistion - it's a reference to "Mystery of Love", as well as a reference to Mary Renault's novel "The Persian Boy" which I love and adore (in case you were wondering why Alexander the cat is small and likes cuddles - the reason is Renault's characterization of Alexander).


	3. Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like last time, a huge thank you to [@binary-suunset](https://binary-suunset.tumblr.com/) and [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for their encouragement and helpful suggestions!

_Folklore has long attributed a special significance to the first color soulmates see, maintaining that it will influence the soulmates’ relationship from that point on. Current research has proven this belief to be wrong - any correspondence can be attributed to either coincidence or the phenomenon of self-fulfilling prophecies._

Soulmates - A Scientific Perspective, by Regina J. Cayce

**3 - Yellow**

“You remember the guy I told you about?” Oliver asked, not quite managing to conceal his excitement. He’s slightly bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, like an overexcited child.

“The one that was ‘just a friend’?” Stella asks and looks him with a sly expression. “I guess that’s no longer true, then? He couldn’t resist your charm?”

“Even better,” Oliver says.

Stella raises her eyebrows expectantly. “What?”

“Let’s put it this way,” he begins, grinning widely. “I really like your shirt. Red suits you.”

Her eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth to muffle a high-pitched shriek. “Really!?”

He nods and recounts how he met Elio as well as how they found out that they’re soulmates.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says and hugs him. “You need to tell me everything,” she continues once she releases him. “How did it feel? Did you suspect that you were soulmates? What do colors look like?”

He laughs and they make plans to meet up one of these days when Oliver has a free evening. “Although I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to spend that time with your soulmate,” she says and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Oliver feels his cheeks heat up and suspects that his face is flushed red. “Well,” he says and scratches the back of his neck. “We are still getting to know each other, so we haven’t yet... we’ve only kissed so far. Hannah said I should give him time to adjust, since he’s younger than me, and I feel like I need time, too.”

Stella frowns. “But you’re soulmates, aren’t you? The universe already made the decision for you.”

“It’s not like the movies,” Oliver says. “It’s not magical… okay, I guess it is, in a way, but you don’t have a sudden connection if you know what I mean? You still need to get to know each other, it’s like any other relationship in that respect.”

Her face falls. “So, it doesn’t feel special?” she asks. “It doesn’t feel like you found your other half?”

“Of course it’s special,” Oliver says immediately. “Just, in a different way than I expected, I suppose. Hannah always says that the universe gives you a hint on who could be good for you, but making it work? You need to figure that out on your own.”

“You’re ruining all the romance,” Stella says and puts her hands on her hips in a frighteningly accurate impression of every difficult middle-aged female customer ever. “Oh, and don’t pretend like you’re not besotted, you know? It’s obvious.”

* * *

Since finding out they are soulmates, Elio and Oliver have only been on a few dates, whenever their respective schedules would allow, which has been decidedly less often than they both would have liked.

Concerning today’s date, Oliver thought Elio would suggest going to see a movie or going out for dinner or lunch.

Elio, however, had surprised him. “I want to do something else. We could just spend the night at your place,” he said, trying to hold Oliver’s gaze, but failing to do so after a few seconds.

“And?” Oliver asked.

“And see what comes up,” Elio finished and cleared his throat.

“Okay,” Oliver said. He’d fantasized about it, but he’d been waiting for Elio to ask him. If he thought back to his own adolescence, he could remember the specific brand of teenage agony, simultaneously being hungry for new experiences, coupled with the nervous, stomach-cramp-inducing fear of not measuring up to the task, metaphorically and literally speaking. “We’ll just see what happens, then,” he had said and smiled at Elio, a gesture of silent reassurance.

Elio arrives at Oliver’s apartment ten minutes before their agreed upon time. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was too excited.”

“No problem,” Oliver says and kisses him the moment he shut the door behind them. “Better that than you not showing up at all, right?”

“I would never stand you up,” he says. “I just… whatever,” he adds. “I didn’t come here to talk.” He kisses him again, more greedily this time.

Elio starts to lead them to the bedroom. Oliver remembers that he’s made food, but Elio says he’s not hungry.

“Maybe later,” Oliver laughs between kisses. “Once I’ve worn you out.”

“You think that’s going to happen?” Elio asks. “Maybe I’ll wear you out.”

Oliver smirks mischievously. “I’ll have you know that my stamina is the stuff of legends.”

“Prove it, then,” Elio demands.

He loses his bravado once they actually made it to the bedroom. Elio sits on the bed. “I’m nervous,” he admits and slings his arms around his shins. “I really want to, but I-I’ve never done this with a man before. I’m sorry, I don’t want to make things awkward for you like that.”

“It’s alright,” Oliver says, moving to sit behind Elio. He plants kisses all along Elio’s shoulders and upper back, feeling how his soulmate relaxes under his ministrations. “We’ll take it slow. If I do something you don’t like, then you need to tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” Elio says and unravels his long, slender limbs. He rearranges himself until he’s straddling Oliver and can look down on him. It’s unusual, having to look up to see Elio’s face.

Oliver rests his hands on Elio’s hips - his soulmate is so much slimmer and smaller compared to him. He can’t help feeling like he needs to be careful not to crush him. Of course, just because he’s skinny, doesn’t mean Elio is fragile. In fact, Oliver suspects Elio is a lot stronger than he lets on, better equipped to deal with life than Oliver is. And wouldn’t that be funny, he thinks, if he, who looks for all intents and purposes like the “stronger” one in their relationship, was actually depending more on Elio than Elio on him?

They kiss, slowly at first; this is familiar territory. The heat between them builds gradually, their hands start to roam more freely, exploring each other’s bodies. Oliver takes his shirt off first, and even though the sight is nothing new for Elio, he still feels oddly satisfied when Elio tells him that he’s looking good.

Oliver’s playing with the hemline of Elio’s shirt and, unprompted, Elio lifts up his arms, a silent invitation, and Oliver can take a hint.

After that, he doesn’t really remember when they took off their trousers, but they’re both finally, gloriously, naked.

For the rest of the night, he takes his time with Elio - being so young means it doesn’t take a lot to make the boy come and his refractory period is exceptionally short. Oliver takes advantage of the fact and makes him come again and again. When Elio says that he wants Oliver inside of him, it’s a high-pitched whine, his face and chest are flushed red, a number of love bites blooming on his neck already.

He’s only too happy to oblige.

Afterward, they’re lying together, Oliver has his head buried in the crook of Elio’s shoulder and feels Elio’s fingers drawing senseless patterns on his back.

“Looks like I’ve managed to wear _you_ out, after all,” Elio whispers into Oliver’s ear.

Oliver laughs, but it turns into a yawn. “I work two jobs,” he mumbles. “I’m allowed to be tired.”

Elio snorts and tightens his hold on Oliver for a second. “My hard-working soulmate,” he chuckles and kisses Oliver’s temple.

They wake up in the early morning, both unused to waking up next to someone else. Blowjobs, as it turns out, are an excellent way to start the day.

Satisfied, but all too aware that he needs to get up, Oliver reluctantly tries to get out of bed.

“I need to get ready for work,” he half-heartedly protests when Elio tries to keep him in bed with kisses and caresses.

“Call in sick,” Elio whines.

“My boss never lets me call in sick,” he says. “I’d literally have to be on my deathbed.”

“I hate your boss,” Elio says and pouts.

“You’re not the only one,” Oliver laughs and tells Elio they can take a shower and have breakfast together if they get up now. Contrary to morning blowjobs, their attempt at having shower sex is much more clumsy and a lot less erotic than Oliver thought it would be. They decide not to repeat the experience.

After the shower, Oliver throws on a pair of shorts and nothing else for now. He starts making breakfast in the kitchen.

Elio emerges from the bedroom ten minutes later. “I think I’d like you better without the shorts,” he says, hugs Oliver from behind, and kisses his shoulder.

“I can’t walk around completely naked,” he says.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem being naked with me before,” Elio says and starts playing with the waistband of the shorts.

“Yes, but other than the bedroom, the kitchen window doesn’t have a curtain and I have nosy neighbors.”

He can feel Elio smile against his skin. “Okay, I’ll behave,” he says and his hands wander a little upwards again until they rest on his belly. “For now.”

“I knew you would say that,” he laughs and Elio laughs, too. It sounds… nice. The situation is domestic and for a moment, Oliver forgets that this is all supposed to be new and scary. There’s a warm feeling in his chest that spreads to his whole body. He turns around to face Elio and he could get used to this, he thinks, as he leans in to brush a kiss against his lips.

Waking up next to his soulmate, having breakfast together and then lazing around, maybe back to bed for sex… if only he didn’t have to go to work this morning.

What does it matter that he’s years older than Elio, what does anything matter, he asks himself, slowly but surely losing himself in Elio’s embrace.

Elio pulls back from the kiss and wrinkles his nose. “Is that…?” he asks, but Oliver has already noticed the foul smell of burnt food.

He curses and turns around, trying to save the last batch of pancakes. “I’m so sorry,” he says, but Elio is leaning against the kitchen counter, laughing and wiping tears from his eyes.

“We’re a mess,” Elio says and starts laughing again.

They have breakfast with the window open to get rid of the smell of burnt food, eating the pancakes that turned out alright before Elio showed up and distracted him. Once they are done, Oliver carries their plates to the sink. Either he’ll do the dishes later today, or he’ll ask Elio to do them before he leaves.

Standing in front of the sink, he quickly gathers his courage **.** “Elio, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he says.

Elio gives him an expectant look but doesn’t say anything.

“We haven’t known each other for that long and I don’t want to sound like this is serious… I mean, it kind of is, you’re my soulmate,” he trails off. This conversation had been easier when he rehearsed it in his head. Why can’t he get the words out, now? “Would you want to meet my sister and _her_ soulmate?” he says, quickly, before the words get a chance become stuck in his throat. “I can’t introduce you to my parents, can I, but Hannah and Estefania are curious about you and if you want to, we could get together one of these days.”

“Really? You’d do that?” Elio asks. “I’d like that, yeah,” he adds and lets out a nervous little laugh. “Thanks for asking me, I was worried that you were ashamed of me, or disappointed, maybe. I haven’t told my parents, either, but that’s mostly because… well… ”

“I understand,” Oliver says. He vows to ask Elio about his familial situation one of these days, just not now. No, they’ll need time for a conversation like this, he can feel it. If Elio only moved out from home a month or two ago, then he’s going to need a bit more time, anyway. Distance helps to put things into perspective, Oliver learned that lesson when he was disowned. It took time to unravel his thoughts and, some days, he feels like he’s done with that, like his parents - especially his father - no longer have a hold on him. There are other days, too, where it’s the exact opposite when he thinks he’s never going to escape the demons of his childhood and adolescence. Over time, those days have become less and less frequent. Elio seems insecure, uncomfortable, and almost ashamed whenever the subject of his parents comes up. It’ll eventually get better, he wants to say, I promise you.

“Your sister and her soulmate don’t mind that I’m so much younger than you?” Elio asks, fiddling with the hem of the shirt he is wearing. It’s one of Oliver’s shirts, and he pretends he doesn’t notice that Elio has put it on. He likes seeing his soulmate wear his clothes.

“Honestly? They’re just happy that we’ve found each other, and once they get to know you a little, they’ll like you, I’m sure,” Oliver reassures him.

Elio opens his mouth to reply, but blinks a couple of times and rubs his eyes. “Your shorts,” he finally says. “They look different.”

“Another new color?” Oliver asks and looks down at himself. The shorts have always been a light grey so far and the new color is a welcome change if he’s being honest with himself. “It’s yellow,” he says. “At least I think so. The photographer told me.”

“Photographer?”

“I used to model sometimes,” Oliver says with a self-conscious shrug. “Then I got the job at the bar, and I didn’t have time for it anymore. That gig,” he says, tugging at the hem of the shorts, “was one of my last. They didn’t have enough cash to pay me, so I got to keep some of the clothes.”

Elio looks him up and down, surprised, as though he’s never seen him before. “Were you successful?”

Oliver snorts and shakes his head. “If I had been, would I work two jobs and live like this?” he says, gesturing to the tiny room around them. “I could have made more money if I’d slept with the photographers, but…”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m desperate for money, but not _that_ desperate,” Oliver says. “Besides, they could never get all of me in a picture, so I wasn’t very much in demand.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Elio says.

“Well, you’re biased,” he retorts.

Elio shrugs and looks at the shorts again. “Yellow suits you, but I would like you even more with your shorts off.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Didn’t _you_ say that you need to go to work?” Elio asks.

It’s Oliver’s turn to let out a frustrated groan. He pulls Elio in for a kiss; his soulmate’s lips taste sweet from the maple syrup on the waffles and it takes all of Oliver’s willpower to pull away.

“We could meet tonight,” Elio suggest. “Before your shift starts, I mean.”

Oliver furrows his brows. The corners of his mouth are twitching involuntarily. “Did you just suggest we have an after-work quickie?”

“Or a pre-work quickie,” Elio says. “Depending on how you look at it.”

“I won’t be able to focus at work all day, I hope you know that,” Oliver mumbles before he pulls Elio in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter in the comments!


	4. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took longer than usual! I was very busy last week and it directly impacted the time and energy I could devote to writing and editing - with that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Once again, thank you to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for taking the time to beta this fic!

_7\. You can “lose” the ability to see some colors just as easily as you acquired it. Couples report temporarily losing the ability to see certain colors after they e. g. had a serious fight with their partner. For the most interviewees, this experience is coupled with stress and fear. Usually, the colors returned after the couples made up_ _. _

The Problem With Predestination - 10 Surprising Downsides Of Having A Soulmate, published in Vanity Fair, June 1983

**4 - Green**

Elio enjoys being the little spoon. They’re just cuddling on the bed in Oliver’s apartment. Oliver is too tired to do anything else, after having worked a shift at the bar, after which he worked another shift at his day job.

Elio still likes it; he’ll take all the intimacy he can get. He can feel Oliver’s body warmth slowly seeping through the fabric of the cable-knit sweater Elio is wearing. The sweater belongs to Oliver, but Elio has developed a habit of borrowing his soulmate’s clothes. While they might be several sizes too large for him, he likes wearing them, likes being surrounded by Oliver’s scent, even if Oliver himself is not around.

Elio inhales deeply. There’s the ever-present smell of pine, courtesy of the fabric softener Oliver uses because it’s the cheapest. Under that, there’s a hint of tobacco. Oliver doesn’t smoke himself, but the air in the bar where he works is always thick with cigarette smoke, and it seeps into Oliver’s clothes, his hair, his skin and clings to it. He can never get completely rid of it. There’s also the smell of coffee, which Oliver admits he can’t live without. As far as addictions go, caffeine is a benign one in Elio’s book, even though Oliver is noticeably grumpy if he doesn’t get his customary six cups a day.

A few days ago, Oliver introduced him to his sister, Hannah, and her soulmate, Estefania - or Fani, as she prefers to be called. Much like Oliver, Hannah is a leggy blonde, and while she’s not quite as tall as her younger brother, she’s still got an inch on Elio. Estefania, on the other hand, is short and curvy, with dark hair and skin and an extremely sarcastic sense of humor. She and Elio had made a game out of speaking Spanish and Italian, respectively, trying to find out how much they would understand. Hannah had joined in after a while, speaking Spanish, too. Oliver had looked a little lost, admitting that his Spanish was close to non-existent. Elio promised him that he would teach him some Italian, or French if he wanted to. (The lessons had started that very night, with Elio teaching Oliver how to flirt in Italian and French.)

Now that Oliver has introduced him to his family - or the part of the family he  _ could _ introduce Elio to, as he used to say, Elio feels like he has to follow suit.

“Oliver, are you awake?” Elio asks.

His soulmate stirs against him. “I am now,” he mumbles and presses a kiss to the nape of Elio’s neck. “What is it?” he asks, slipping one of his hands under the hem of Elio’s sweater and resting it against the skin of his belly.

“I thought about telling my parents about us,” Elio says and turns around, so he can face Oliver. “I mean, I’ll have to tell them eventually, anyway.”

Worry is etched into his soulmate’s features. “You don’t have to tell them right away,” Oliver says. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” His frown disappears, his features soften and his fingers start to trace the ridges and bumps of Elio’s spine.

It sends pleasant tingles through Elio’s body and he has to concentrate so he can understand what Oliver says next.

“You said you’re living with relatives, right? If you ever decide that you don’t want that anymore, or if they… if you wanted to, you could move in,” Oliver says. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he blinks a couple of times too often. Before Elio gets a chance to respond, Oliver continues, rapidly, like he’s trying to get the words out before his courage fails him. “You don’t have to say yes, obviously. It was just an idea.”

Instead of replying, Elio reaches out and rests his hand against Oliver’s cheek for a moment before he lets his hand travel lower to Oliver’s neck, feeling his soulmate’s pulse hammering rapidly underneath his skin.

For a moment, he imagines sharing an apartment with Oliver, sharing a bed and a life, too. However, there’s another life that’s calling him back, back to Europe, back to Italy, and he’ll have to leave in a few weeks’ time. He hasn’t managed to break the news to Oliver yet, as though not saying it would mean it won’t become true.

Oliver opens his mouth to say something, but Elio quickly silences him with a kiss. It’s painful, but he has to put it into words.

“I’d love to,” he says when he pulls away. “But I can’t, at least not yet.”

“You mean because you’re not of age?” Oliver asks. “That’s not a problem, we just need to get ourselves officially registered as soulmates and then you can live with me, no parental approval needed,” he explains and looks a little sheepish. “I looked it up. They make you do a couple of tests so they’ll know you’re not faking it, but we aren’t so it should be easy. I know, we haven’t yet talked about why you’re not living with your parents, but I can’t imagine they’ll be very happy when they find out… ”

“They’re going to be disappointed that I didn’t tell them the moment we found each other, sure,” Elio says. “As for why I’m not living with them… It’s stupid, but, long story short, I didn’t want to stay at the villa during summer and asked them to let me come to New York instead,” he admits. Even though he hasn’t even told his soulmate the full story yet, Elio’s cheeks are already burning with shame.

Oliver gives him a confused look. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You  _ asked  _ them to let you come to New York? You didn’t… run away from home?”

“No?” Elio says. He disentangles himself from Oliver’s embrace and sits up.

Oliver gives him a look of betrayal. It lasts only a second, but it’s enough to make something inside Elio hurt and, for a moment, he wants nothing more than to get out of this bed and be left alone. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Oliver asks. “All this time I thought you weren’t on good terms with them.”

“But you always said that I don’t have to talk about them if I don’t want to and that you understand,” Elio protests.

Oliver sits up as well. “I thought your parents had disowned you,” he says. “And that’s why you were living with relatives.”

“I’m sorry,” Elio says and blinks in surprise. Something is changing - it takes him a moment to realize what’s happening. The colors he can see, the yellow, the red and the orange, they’re starting to fade, slowly but surely. Elio’s heart skips a beat. He messed up, that’s quite obvious. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I just felt  _ ashamed _ .”

“Ashamed?” Oliver repeats. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’d have to feel ashamed about.”

He takes a deep breath and reaches for Oliver’s hands, interlacing their fingers. “Please don’t laugh,” he says before he starts to explain that his father is a professor and his family spends their summers at a villa in the countryside. “Each year, my father selects a student to spend a few weeks at the villa. They help him with his research and work on their own thesis, too,” he says. “Usually, I get along with them. Last year, I didn’t, and the whole summer was awful because of it.”

“What happened?” Oliver asks, worried.

“We always got into fights, over nothing, really,” Elio says and hides his face in the crook of Oliver’s shoulders, feeling his cheeks heat up again. “Our maid said I was just being an insufferable teenager.”

Oliver starts laughing, a deep, full-bellied laugh.

Elio sits back and looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Hey,” he protests and gives Oliver a playful shove. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver forces out between bouts of laughter. “I’m sorry, but I can imagine that so well.”

Elio gives him another playful shove and it turns into a mockery of a fight, which ends with Oliver lying half on top of Elio. They’re both laughing and Elio steals a few kisses, the seriousness of their previous conversation momentarily forgotten.

The colors return to their usual vividness and Elio breathes a little easier.

“So, you behaved like a typical teenager,” Oliver picks up the conversation where they left off and rolls to the side again, resting his head on his arm. “And you didn’t get along with the student your parents picked to stay with you.”

“Well, yeah, we fought a lot. I said and did some things I’m not proud of,” Elio admits, his gaze fixed on Oliver’s collarbone. He starts playing with Oliver’s necklace, to distract himself. “I asked them not to invite another student this summer, but my parents said that it’s a tradition and… I said that if they insisted on having a student over for the summer, then I wouldn’t spend the summer with them. I’m staying with my aunt, my father’s sister, and her husband.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Oliver asks. “I told you, I thought you’d either run away from home or that you’d been disowned - that’s what happened to me, after all.”

Elio feels his eyes widen. “You were disowned?” he asks, his voice an octave higher than usual. It gives him unwelcome flashbacks to a few years ago when his voice would break randomly. “Why didn’t you tell  _ me  _ that? I thought your parents were dead from the way you spoke about them.”

Oliver flushes; it’s his turn to be embarrassed. “You’re right, I should have said something,” he acknowledges. “But I thought you were in trouble with your parents and I thought if I brought up my sob story, it would just remind you of your family.”

“Why did they disown you?”

Oliver looks exhausted. “What do you think?” he asks. “They found out that I liked kissing boys, so to speak. The same happened to Hannah when she met Fani at college, only she had enough common sense to not tell them until she’d gotten a degree. I was stupid enough to let myself get caught just after my high school graduation.” Oliver lets out what Elio suspects should have been a laugh, but it sounds more like a cross between a bark and a huff, bitter in a way Elio doesn’t like at all.

“What happened?” he asks cautiously and reaches out to run his fingers through Oliver’s hair, massaging his scalp the way he likes it in an effort to make the conversation a little easier for him.

Oliver sighs and closes his eyes, relaxing slightly. “My father yelled, my mother cried, I yelled  _ and _ cried… I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I packed my stuff, got on a bus and showed up at Hannah’s doorstep. She and Fani let me sleep on their couch and helped me find a job and a place of my own. I wanted to go to college, you know, but I couldn’t pay for it… ” he trails off.

Elio is silent. He ought to say something, but everything that comes to mind feels wrong and awkward. Instead, he shifts and presses his body closer to Oliver’s, hugging him close and trying to convey with actions what he can’t put into words.

“Then I met you, and sorry, but you were looking about as lost as I felt when I first came to New York,” Oliver says, his warm breath tickling Elio’s shoulder. “When we talked about your parents, or why you’re here, you always seemed embarrassed, like I was. I mean, who wants to admit that they got thrown out of their house, right?” Oliver is speaking faster and faster now and Elio tightens his embrace to let him know that he’s got him, that he’s right there. “I guess we just assumed and… that was the wrong thing to do, obviously. Now I just feel stupid,” Oliver admits. “For asking you to move in, I thought you were in a similarly bad situation and I wanted to help.”

“It’s okay,” Elio says.

“No, it’s not,” he says and disentangles himself from Elio’s embrace. “Here I was worried that your parents would get angry at you for having a soulmate who’s a man when I actually should be worried about your parents getting angry because I’ve got nothing and I am nothing.” Oliver laughs, but it sounds too fake and hollow to mitigate his words in any way.

“You’re not nothing,” Elio says. When they first met – and if he’s being honest with himself, also for a lot of their meetings afterward – Elio had been both fascinated and intimidated by Oliver. He’d seemed so cool and superior to him in age, independence, and life experience; Elio hardly believed it when the handsome blond he’d developed a little crush on during their talks turned out to be his soulmate. “You’re not nothing,” he repeats. “My parents… I don’t know if they know I’m bi, but the point is, they’ve always told me that they don’t care who my soulmate turns out to be.”

“And you think that’s still going to be true when you introduce us?” Oliver jokes weakly.

“Of course,” Elio insists. “What did you tell me when I was worried about meeting Hannah and Fani? Once they get to know you a little, they’ll like you.”

“Are you sure?”

This time, Elio smiles, nods and leans in to kiss him. He pulls back with a little frown. “The question is, how and when are you going to meet?”

“Right, I was going to ask where you live with your parents,” Oliver says. “Please tell me it’s not too far.”

Elio blinks and starts chewing on his bottom lip. “Milan,” he says. “We live in Milan.”

Oliver doesn’t seem too bothered, he just furrows his brows and tilts his head, questioningly. “Which state is that in?”

“No,” Elio says. “Milan, Italy.”

“You’ve got to be… ” Oliver starts before reality catches up with him and he starts cursing. “Things were going so well,” he says. “Can you stay a little longer, I… I don’t yet know how I’ll cope without having you around.”

“I don’t want to go, either,” Elio says, voice dripping with misery, and suddenly, there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to go,” he repeats and hugs Oliver close like that would be enough to keep them together.

Oliver returns the hug, holding onto him as tightly as he can and burying his nose in Elio’s hair. “It’s okay,” he says, sounding so desperate and lost that Elio doubts Oliver believes his own words.

“I… ” Elio begins, insecure. “It’s just for a year,” he says. “I want to go to college here, which is part of the reason why I came here this summer. And we can visit each other over the holidays, too.”

Oliver pulls back so he can look into Elio’s eyes. “ _ You _ can visit  _ me _ , I guess. I hate to break it to you, but I don’t exactly have the money to pay for international travel,” he says.

“Do you really think my parents wouldn’t help out when I said I wanted to see my soulmate more often?” Elio asks and shifts a little closer to Oliver again.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s charity case,” Oliver says quickly. “Your parents are going to think I’m just trying to sponge off you.”

“No,” Elio protests. “They’ll want to get to know you, sure, but I can’t imagine that they’d, I don’t know, forbid me from interacting with you.“

Oliver huffs. “Great, now you just made them sound like they’re  _ definitely  _ going to decide I’m not good enough for you,” he says.

“Are you  _ scared _ of my parents?” he asks. “Because it sounds like you are.”

“I suppose I am,” Oliver admits reluctantly. “It’s difficult to not feel intimidated by the prospect of meeting your soulmate’s parents, isn’t it? Especially when… ”

Even though Oliver doesn’t finish the sentence, Elio can easily guess that it would have been a re-iteration of ‘I have nothing and I am nothing’. He shakes his head and doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. “This is getting ridiculous, we’re just talking in circles,” he says and rests his forehead against Oliver’s. “Okay, let’s make a promise. No more secrets, okay?”

“Okay,” Oliver echoes. “No more secrets.”

Elio kisses him - it feels more official this way. “We’ll find a way, somehow,” he says after he pulled away. “I know we will. I’ll get over myself and call my parents tomorrow.”

“And you’re going to tell them about us?”

“Of course,” Elio says, shifting again so he’s straddling Oliver. He likes the height advantage it gives him; likes the way Oliver has to tilt his head back to look at him. “I’m going to tell them all about my wonderful soulmate, who just so happens to be a very nice and handsome young man,” he says with a wink.

“Don’t get their expectations up,” Oliver says softly.

Elio kisses him and soon their kisses turn into something more heated, more passionate, and it’s easy to forget their troubles when they can lose themselves in their desire for each other.

Afterward, they’re dozing side by side, and Elio once again whispers that they’ll figure something out.

They’re both asleep before they can notice that the sweater Elio was wearing, which is now lying on the floor, discarded and crumpled, has taken on the same color as the leaves on the trees outside Oliver’s bedroom window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos! I would love to hear your opinion :)


	5. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really hope this works and ao3 isn't going to fail me again today - fingers crossed!
> 
> The wonderful [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) beta'd this chapter as well - thank you very much!
> 
> EDIT: I'm so sorry, I totally didn't notice that I forgot to add in the lines! I fixed it - the chapter should hopefully make a bit more sense, now!

_Many soulmates believe that fate brought them together, or that they were destined to find each other._ _Most researchers agree that people have a tendency to view their first meeting with their soulmate as fateful, even though the meeting itself occurred in a mundane situation._

Searching For Your Soulmate - Five Strategies To Find Your Perfect Match by Sylvia A. Carnegie and George McCaig

**5 - Blue**

**Crema, Winter 1983**

It comes as no surprise to Elio and Oliver that they haven’t managed to see another color ever since they had to say their goodbyes at the end of the summer.

After about a month without his soulmate, however, Elio begins to notice that even the colors he _can_ see no longer appear as vibrant as they had done before. A shirt he’d liked for its flashy, red color looks washed out and dull, for example. He asks his mother whether he was imagining things or not, but she says it was a natural process.

“Is there anything I can do?” Elio asks. “What would make the colors go back to normal?”

“More time spent with your soulmate,” his mother replies. “It’s like being deprived of vitamins. Having the colors look washed-out is the most obvious sign. Other than that, nothing is wrong. It doesn’t mean that your soulmate has found someone else, for example, like your father thought at one point. I got a very panicked phone call from him one night shortly after we’d started going out with each other.”

“Really?” Elio asks, and his mother entertains him with a couple of anecdotes from the early days of her relationship with Elio’s father.

Elio laughs. He’d almost forgotten that he was worried about the colors in the first place.

“Are you feeling better?” his mother asks him and ruffles his hair.

Her gesture makes him feel like a child again, but he doesn’t twist away - in fact, he closes his eyes and tries to enjoy the moment. Up until a few months ago, he’d taken being on good terms with his parents for granted.

Learning about Oliver’s relationship with his family has been an eye-opener, and Elio has started to realize how lucky he is. Oliver had been a lot less fortunate, and he can hardly imagine how alone his soulmate must have felt, trying to learn to cope without the support of parents.

Suddenly, Elio has an idea. “Mom, do you think Oliver would agree if we invited him to spend the holidays with us?”

* * *

Elio is either impatiently tapping his foot, biting his nails or both, no matter how often his mother has told him to stop fidgeting. Oliver’s plane isn’t due to arrive for another ten minutes, but Elio can’t help being nervous.

Letters and phone calls aren’t nearly enough, not when Elio wants to have Oliver close by, wants to hear his voice without it being distorted by static over the phone, and wants to be able to kiss him whenever he feels like it.

He can’t shake the feeling that something vital is missing in his life. When they had to say goodbye, Elio had taken some of Oliver’s clothes with him and he wears them at home, to feel a bit closer to his soulmate. Initially, he’d even refused to let Mafalda wash them so as to keep Oliver’s smell for as long as possible, but he’d given in after a few weeks.

“Elio, people are staring,” his mother says, but she sounds amused, rather than annoyed with him. “You’ve waited for four months, a few minutes more won’t kill you.”

Elio heaves a sigh and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He cranes his neck, looking at the steady stream of arriving passengers, hoping against hope that Oliver is already among them.

When Oliver finally arrives, Elio spots him immediately. Elio waves at him and the change in Oliver is remarkable. If he looked tired, rumpled and travel-weary before, he stands up straighter and a smile lights up his face. He crosses the distance to Elio with a couple of long strides, sets down the suitcase he’s carrying and engulfs Elio in a hug, which quickly turns into a passionate kiss.

His mother loudly clears her throat.

Elio pulls away from Oliver. It’s hard to tell if he’s blushing just as much, or more than Oliver, whose face has turned bright red.

“Mrs. Perlman,” Oliver says awkwardly. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person. You look lovely.”

Elio’s mother looks at him with a stern expression for about a second before she seems to take pity on Elio’s poor soulmate. She smiles and extends her hand, inviting Oliver to shake it. “Call me Annella,” she says. “Pleased to finally meet _you_. Elio hasn’t stopped talking about you since he came back from New York.”

In the car, Elio and Oliver share the backseat. At first, Elio refrains from touching Oliver too much, what with his mother being in the seat just in front of them, but after a while,  he gets too impatient and snuggles close to Oliver.

They talk softly about what has been happening in their respective lives. Oliver tells him that Stella has a boyfriend, but he’s not her soulmate and Hannah and Fani are taking care of Alexander and Hephaistion, his cats, while he’s away. “I just hope they’ll still look at me when I get back,” Oliver says. “Chances are they’ll desert me. I just know Fani is going to spoil them rotten.”

“Then you’ll just have to spoil them more when you get back home,” Elio says nonchalantly before he drops his voice. “And? What do you think of my mother? Not scary, huh?”

“Are you kidding me? She’s _intimidating_ ,” Oliver replies.

Annella looks over her shoulder just a second later and raises a questioning eyebrow. Oliver reflexively sits up straight and looks like he was caught red-handed. “Everything alright?” she asks with what Elio can identify as an amused undertone. Whether Oliver realizes that too… he’s not so sure.

* * *

Even though Mafalda prepared the guest room for Oliver, it goes unused. Elio and Oliver pushed the two twin-sized beds together to create one large bed for themselves and Elio’s parents pretended not to notice it.

Oliver has been with them for just under a week. It’s quite late in the night and they’re catching their breath after they had rather more athletic sex than usual. When Elio comments on it, Oliver kisses his nose and demonstratively stretches himself out long on the bed. “What can I say, being on holiday is great,” he says, leaning in and pressing a few kisses to the sensitive skin of Elio’s belly.

Elio starts laughing and twists away from Oliver’s kisses. “I’m ticklish,” he giggles. “You know that!”

Oliver grins, Elio can feel it against his skin, and the stubble Oliver accumulated over the day scratches him just a little. “That’s what makes it fun.”

* * *

Elio finds Oliver sitting at the window in what has by now become _their_ bedroom. Oliver’s expression is unhappy and vacant.

Elio walks up to him. “Are you okay?” he asks, resting his hands on Oliver’s shoulders. His soulmate’s muscles are feeling tense. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Oliver doesn’t reply for a few seconds.

“Is it because of my parents?” he asks and starts rubbing Oliver’s shoulders. “They like you, you realize that, don’t you?”

Just like Elio expected, and contrary to what Oliver might have feared, Oliver gets along famously with Elio’s parents. Sometimes, when he observes Oliver passionately arguing with his father about ancient history or philosophy, he can hardly believe that this is the same man who he’s had to reassure countless times that his parents are going to like him.

“I know that they like me,” Oliver says quietly, tracing the frost patterns on the window glass. “They like me, you’ll be going to college next year in New York, and then we can live together.”

Elio frowns and stops massaging Oliver’s shoulders. “I thought that was the plan,” he says slowly. “Are you telling me you’re not on board with it any longer?” he asks. His question sounds more like an accusation than intended. ‘Are you telling me you don’t want _me_ any longer?’ he thinks.

Oliver turns around to face him. “I-I suppose I’d like to have more to offer,” he admits. “You and your parents, you fit together so well, and I feel like I need to carve out a space for myself, only I don’t quite fit, because I come with too much emotional baggage.”

“I don’t think you come with too much baggage,” Elio says, leaning  forward and kissing Oliver’s cheek. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“You say that as though it’s going to be easy,” Oliver says, a bitter, humorless, laugh on his lips.

Elio rests his cheek against Oliver’s and closes his eyes. “Maybe it’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it,” he says.

“How can you be so sure?” Oliver asks.

Elio smiles and tells him that the universe already gave them a sign - if they didn’t have the potential to be good together, they wouldn’t be soulmates.

“This is completely different than usual,” Oliver muses. “Most of the time, you’re the one who’s worried. Or you were, at least, in the beginning.”

“Well,” Elio huffs. “I was worried you were going to think I was just a dumb teenager who wasn’t worth your time. Also, because I know you’re going to bring it up, the fact that your parents kicked you out is not your fault.”

Oliver opens his mouth to reply, but Elio cuts him off.

“Not your fault,” he says vehemently. “This is what this is all about, isn’t it? You can’t choose your family, can you? I know I’m extremely lucky to have my parents - it’s not your fault that your parents are bigoted and blind. Assholes, in my opinion.”

“You have no idea,” he mumbles. “Sometimes I am actually glad they found out when they did.”

Elio raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s new.”

Oliver nods, and his gaze is unfocused like he’s sifting through memories he’d rather forget. “What if we’d met and I had still been trying to play a role to appease my parents? If I’d gotten scared, too scared to commit to this, to us.” His features soften when he meets Elio’s gaze. “To think I might have been too much of a coward… I felt bitter when my parents kicked me out, but in the end, the good outweighs the bad, I think. I met you, didn’t I?”

Elio rests his forehead against Oliver’s and interlaces his fingers at the back of his soulmate’s neck. “Are you trying to tell me that, deep down inside, you’re just a big sap?” Elio says, trying to make a joke before becoming serious once again. “It can’t have been easy. When I think about having to cope without having my parents around… ”

“You did well enough on your own in New York,” Oliver says and leans in, stealing a kiss or two, which Elio enthusiastically returns. “And before you pity me too much, I need to tell you that my relationship with my parents was never as good as yours with _your_ parents. We got along, I suppose, as long as I kept playing my role, but after they said Hannah didn’t need to bother coming back home if she was planning to live with Fani, I suspected that something similar was going to happen to me, too. Being disowned just happened a lot sooner than I had expected.”

Elio tilts his head and rubs his thumb over Oliver’s forehead, smoothing away a frown. “I’m beginning to understand why you were scared of meeting my parents at first.”

Oliver shrugs and places his hands at Elio’s waist. “Can you blame me?”

Elio shakes his head and mumbles that no, he doesn’t. How could he? The more he finds out about the way Oliver grew up, the more grateful he is for his parents.

“I’m glad you’re my soulmate,” Oliver says.

“What? Because there’s no complicated family situation to work around like you thought in the beginning?” Elio jokes.

“Even if your family were shitty, I’ve got experience when it comes to severing ties with your parents and, hey, having a soulmate? It’s so worth it,” he says and smiles for a second. “But no, that’s not it. Or not the only reason, I suppose,” he adds, serious once more. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think a lot about how and why we’re soulmates. Didn’t you ever think that maybe there was a reason why you didn’t get along with the student your parents picked out last summer? That something wanted you to come to New York so we could meet?” Oliver asks.

“What would have happened, otherwise?” Elio wonders. “We might have met a year later because I was planning to go to college in New York anyway.”

“Well, there are worse ways to meet, I suppose,” Oliver says and snorts.

“If you’d have gone to college, you might have been one of my dad’s students,” Elio suggests.

Oliver shudders theatrically. “First of all, I’m not the kind of person who seduces their host’s son without a second thought.”

“Not without a second thought, no,” Elio acknowledges slyly. “I’m sure you’d have thought about it for a long time before you made a move.”

Oliver shakes with silent laughter.

“Although, if you had gone to college, you would’ve had to have been on good terms with your parents. So, you wouldn’t have been out. We’re still soulmates, though, and sooner or later, we would have touched… ”

“It would have made everything incredibly complicated,” Oliver sums up. “Since I don’t have to deal with my parents’ bigotry anymore, I feel a lot more confident than I used to.”

“Yeah, but sometimes you still seem insecure when you’re with me,” Elio says.

Oliver furrows his brow and gives Elio a thoughtful look. “I suppose,” he begins slowly. “It takes courage to allow yourself to be vulnerable and insecure around someone, to let someone witness moments in which you’re not trying to appear strong and confident.” He runs his thumb over the inside of Elio’s left wrist, right over his pulse point. “I trust you enough to show you that side of me. I’m not _ashamed_ if you know what I mean. Being your soulmate makes me feel more courageous, actually. Seeing colors? It’s like fate telling us we should get to know each other, and get to know ourselves better, too, in the process. It’s amazing, wonderful, and strange at the same time.”

Elio smiles. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate, too,” he says quietly. Oliver is still caressing his wrist like he’s forgotten he’s doing it. Who is Elio to demand he stops? “And you’re right. It takes a lot of courage to be honest. If I talk to you about things that bother me, then I want us to work on it and not grow apart because of it. In fact, I want us to grow _stronger_ because of it,” Elio pauses and swallows a few times. “That’s what I want to happen during the remaining time we need to spend apart,” he admits in a small voice. “We can pretend like it won’t change anything, but it _will_ \- just look at how different the colors look, now that we’re together again. I want us to become better friends and better partners because of it.”

Oliver nods. “Okay,” he says. “We can do that.” He kisses Elio once on the mouth, painfully slowly, and peppers his jaw with a couple of featherlight kisses before he pulls away again.

Looking into Oliver’s eyes, Elio almost doesn’t notice the change, but something is _different_ and he laughs out loud when he realizes it. “Oliver!” he says. “Your eyes, they changed color.”

“Did they?” Oliver asks. “I’ve always been told they’re blue… I suppose your shirt is, too, then,” he says, gesturing at the oversized shirt Elio is wearing, which is technically one of Oliver’s own shirts.

Elio looks at Oliver’s eyes again. “It’s a pretty color,” he decides. “I like it a lot.”

“I would be offended if you didn’t,” Oliver says and pulls him in for another kiss. “How many colors do we have left to discover?”

“Not that many,” Elio says. “It means we’re doing something right.”

“I guess,” Oliver says. “Although I don’t even know if I could do anything wrong when it comes to you.”

Elio rolls his eyes but feels his cheeks heat up nonetheless. “You’ve been listening to too much cheesy Italian music since you’ve come here,” he says.

“Speaking of music,” Oliver says, ignoring the sarcasm in Elio’s statement. “Could you play the piano this evening?”

Elio raises his eyebrows. “Again?”

“You look cute and you play beautifully,” Oliver says. “And didn’t you say you need to practice more, anyway?”

“Okay, I’ll play for you, and _maybe_ I’ll even take your requests.”

“If you do, I’ll make it up to you later,” Oliver promises and leans in to whisper something in Elio’s ear.

Elio blushes and his mouth feels dry. “Can we skip straight ahead to that?” he asks, licking his lips.

Oliver doesn’t have to be asked twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the chapter, please consider telling me so in a comment and/or leaving kudos!


	6. Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking longer than usual to update - I don't know why, but it seems I always have trouble when it comes to finishing fics!
> 
> Once again, a huge thank you goes out to [@angst-wizard](http://angst-wizard.tumblr.com/) for being a great beta-reader!

_ Rainbows are improbable, beautiful and rare _

_ But so are you and so is this, the love that we share _

_ Too vast to hold and too small to name, it’s no wonder why _

_ You have to stand between the rain and the sun to see a rainbow in the sky _

Rainbow Connections, by Garfunkel and Oates

**6 - Purple**

**Crema, Summer 1984**

It’s the early afternoon, and Elio is lazing around by the pool. Oliver is lying next to him. He’s got his nose buried in one of the books Elio’s father recommended as introductory reading for college. With the encouragement of Elio’s parents, Oliver decided to take a chance and apply for undergrad programs. He was accepted and so, come autumn, they’ll both be Freshmen students.

“You know, my friends are really happy that my parents didn’t invite another student and that you’re visiting instead,” Elio says, to take Oliver’s mind off things.

“Should I should feel happy because your friends like me, or does it just mean that your parents have horrible taste when it comes to picking out students to stay with them?” Oliver replies and closes the book.

During the few weeks he’s spent in Italy already, Oliver has acquired a tan and the sun has bleached his hair. It suits him almost too well. Chiara once made a couple of cheeky comments that Oliver is off-limits for her, because he’s Elio’s soulmate, but does he have a brother?

Oliver had laughed and said, no, he was sorry, even if he and Elio weren’t soulmates and weren’t together, she would be out of luck since he was not interested in women that way and he only had an older sister. Chiara had still looked interested after that, even though Oliver hadn’t noticed it.

“The good ones are always gay,” Marzia had said with a pout, which had quickly turned into a grin. Oliver had raised his glass to her with a mock salute, while Elio pretended to be offended at first before he’d joined in their laughter.

* * *

It’s past midnight - the dance floor of the local outdoor disco is crowded. Elio sits at a table, smoking a cigarette and watching his friends dance more or less gracefully. His eyes are always drawn back to Oliver, who’s dancing with Chiara. From the smiles on their faces, they’re having a lot of fun.

A new song comes on; it’s a lot slower and more romantic than the ones before it. The other couples on the dance floor start to slow dance. Chiara has to stand on the tips of her toes to whisper something in Oliver’s ear. Elio can’t see his soulmate’s face, but Chiara laughs and swats at Oliver’s chest before she leaves him alone on the dance floor.

Oliver turns to Elio and holds out his hand, a silent invitation.

Elio smiles, finishes his drink in one large gulp and stubs out his cigarette before he rises from his seat and joins Oliver on the dance floor. He slings his arms around Oliver’s neck, and Elio thanks the fates that he had enough common sense not to drink as much as on their first date, so when he interrupts their dancing to kiss Oliver, he still knows what’s going on and he can enjoy the moment. He presses himself a little closer to Oliver afterward, to let everyone know that his soulmate is spoken for, even though the sober part of his brain calls him ridiculous for it.

During the last beats of the song, Elio is half hoping that the next song is going to be another slow one and half hoping it  _ isn’t _ so that he can suggest he and Oliver go somewhere else, where they can be alone and undisturbed for the night.

Oliver cheers loudly when he recognizes the next song. It’s his new favorite,  ‘I Want To Break Free’, and Elio knows they’ll have to stay for at least another few minutes before they can leave.

* * *

It’s a Saturday afternoon, the heat is just enough to feel comfortable and not stifling, but Elio feels concerned - ten minutes ago, Oliver was called into the house, because there was a phone call for him. He still hasn’t returned. Elio nervously and worries his teeth over his bottom lip. Usually, Oliver doesn’t take that long on the phone, too conscious of the costs of international phone calls.

After another five minutes pass without Oliver making a reappearance, Elio decides to investigate the matter.

He finds his soulmate sitting on the sofa in the living room. Oliver isn’t even talking on the phone anymore, he’s just holding the receiver. His shoulders are hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller than he is - an exercise in futility, with his height.

“My parents are getting a divorce,” Oliver says with a hollow voice. “Hannah said our mother called her half an hour ago.”

“Really?” Elio asks and sits down next to Oliver. He puts a hand on Oliver’s thigh to keep him grounded **_._ ** “What did she say? Except that they’re getting a divorce, I mean?”

Oliver shrugs and laughs, helplessly. “To be honest, I don’t think I understood all of what she was telling me. It came out of nowhere and according to Hannah, Mom tried to call me, too, only she didn’t know I was in Italy… it’s a bit overwhelming.”

“I can imagine,” Elio whispers. He reaches over, plucks the receiver from Oliver’s hand, who seems to have forgotten that he’s even holding it, and hangs up. “Did Hannah say when she’s going to call again?”

Oliver shakes his head. “She said  _ I _ should call back,” he replies. “But I don’t even know if I… I don’t know what to think, at the moment.”

“What do you need?” Elio asks quietly.

“Time on my own,” Oliver says. “I need to think about this.”

“All alone or just time away from everyone who isn't me?”

“The latter,” Oliver says, managing a shaky smile. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. “Thank you.”

“You want to get away from it all for a few hours? There’s a spot I haven’t shown you yet. Nobody ever goes there so we’d be alone,” Elio suggests.

“Is it far?”

“Half an hour with the bikes,” Elio says. “A bit quicker if we hurry up.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Elio takes his rucksack and packs a blanket, a bottle of water, and a couple of peaches from the orchard. He also grabs a book from his mother’s bookshelf, so he’ll have something to read.

The bike ride is mostly spent in silence.

When they get there, they put their bikes down in the grass. Elio looks for a good spot to put down the blanket and then shows Oliver the water, without telling him that it’s ice-cold.

Oliver yelps when he steps into the water and Elio laughs out loud. It’s good to see Oliver more carefree again, not weighed down by thoughts of the future and fears. They splash around a little in the water before they retire to the blanket. Elio tries to read a bit but finds ‘Bonjour Tristesse’, the book he picked, a bit tedious to get through. He puts it down before he’s even halfway through the thin book.

“Not good?” Oliver asks when Elio shoves the book back into the rucksack with more force than necessary.

Elio shakes his head. “I don’t know what my mother sees in it.”

Oliver picks it up and starts to leaf through it, but puts it down after a few seconds. “I would love to give you my opinion, but the book is in French.”

“Sorry, I’ll make sure to pick a book in a language you know next time,” Elio says and sticks out his tongue. “Are you hungry?” Elio asks and takes the peaches from his rucksack.

“No, but I’ll take one anyway,” Oliver says and snatches a fruit from Elio’s hand. “They’re really good, store-bought just isn’t the same.”

“I’ll pass the compliment on to Mom,” Elio laughs and selects a peach for himself, too. The sweet flavor of the perfectly ripe fruit fills his mouth as soon as he bites into it.

“You can pass some compliments on to Mafalda as well,” Oliver says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll miss her cooking,” he says and pats his belly. “I feel like I gained at least ten pounds ever since I came here.”

“I don’t see a difference,” Elio says. “But you could ask her to teach you a couple of her recipes before we leave. I’m sure she’d be happy to teach you,” he adds. “I could translate if you want.” Even though Oliver has started to learn Italian, he admits to having problems understanding it - in real life, people speak so much faster than they do on the cassettes he’s practicing with.

Oliver says he would love that, eats the rest of his peach and chucks the pit far into the meadow before them.

Elio follows suit, trying to throw his pit even further than Oliver’s. His hands feel sticky because of the peach juice, so he goes to the water to wash his hands. He also splashes a bit of the cool water on his face and the back of his neck.

When he returns to Oliver, he finds him looking into the distance, as if the horizon held the solution to all his problems. Elio sits down next to him. “If you’re ready to talk, just tell me, alright?” he says.

Oliver looks at him with a grateful expression and nods, once. “I will.”

Elio smiles. “I’ll be right here, trying to read my book,” he says, taking “Bonjour Tristesse” out again, willing to give it a second chance. He traces the squiggly handwriting on the inside of the cover.

It says ‘Annella, 1955’.

Once again, Elio gives up following the story and, instead, he just traces the many sentences his mother has underlined since she first read the book, almost thirty years ago. It’s a little like looking into her head and he likes it – maybe he should start marking his own books in a similar way. It might be interesting to pass them on to friends, or family members, or perhaps even just to his own future self.

“Can we talk?” Oliver says suddenly.

“Yes,” Elio says and puts the book away for good. “Speak to me, oh, soulmate dear,” he adds.

The corners of Oliver’s mouth twitch, but he’s back to serious in the blink of an eye. “I’m going to call Hannah back, or maybe I’ll talk to my mother myself, I don’t know yet.”

“I think it’s better if you speak with her yourself,” Elio says. “That minimizes the chance of miscommunication, you know?”

“And you would know all about that, of course,” Oliver replies. “It’s not like I thought you were a runaway when we first met.”

“That was one time,” Elio defends himself and pokes Oliver in the chest with his index finger. “And you remember what we did afterwards, don’t you? We talked about it and even managed to see another color the morning after, which means it must have been the right thing to do. So, how do you feel about reconnecting with your mother? Good, bad, or neutral?”

“Anxious, mostly,” Oliver admits. “We haven’t talked since I left home. I always got along better with her than with my father, true, but I honestly don’t know if I can still trust her. I don’t even know if there was ever any trust in the first place.”

Logically, Elio understands what Oliver is getting at, but emotionally? He tries to imagine not trusting his parents, what his life would be like, how he would be different, but he fails. However, it explains a lot about Oliver. His reluctance to reconnect with his mother speaks volumes about how he must have felt growing up. Whenever Oliver talks about playing roles, hiding his feelings, hiding who he  _ is _ , Elio’s heart breaks a little. Elio vows to himself that he’ll make sure that, from now on, Oliver will have all the love he never experienced during his childhood and adolescence. 

“Whatever you decide to do in the end,” Elio begins and shifts a little closer to Oliver. “I want you to know that you won’t have to do this alone, right? If you want me to be by your side when you speak with your mother, then I’ll be there, but if you think you need to do it on your own, that’s okay, too. The point is, I’ll support you. It’s what soulmates do, isn’t it?”

“Thank you,” Oliver says. “I want to know if she’s  _ really  _ interested in reconnecting with Hannah and me, or if she just feels guilty and wants us to tell her that she hasn’t been a bad mother, after all.”

He takes hold of a couple of long grass blades and starts ripping them apart - his fingers are moving mechanically as if Oliver doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. When he’s reduced the first few grass blades to nothing, he grabs another tuft and starts over.

“When I was younger, I hoped she’d see reason and leave dad, but now I feel like it’s too late for her to reconnect with me in a meaningful way. I’m scared that, if I talk to her and it ends up being a disaster, I’ll feel just as hurt as I was when I was disowned in the first place. I finally got used to the idea of having no contact with my parents and that Hannah is the only family member I’m on good terms with, and now this comes up and I can’t even be happy about the fact that my mother decided to reach out to us.”

He pauses and only now he seems to realize that he’s been ripping apart grass for the better part of five minutes. The tips of his fingers have turned slightly green and there’s shredded grass all over the blanket. He quickly starts to brush it off the blanket.

“In short, you’re afraid of once again giving her the power to hurt you,” Elio says and observes Oliver’s reaction. His soulmate’s eyebrows knit together for a moment before he opens his eyes slightly wider than usual. “Alright,” Elio continues, knowing that he’s hit the nail on the head. “Even if reconnecting with your mother won’t work, I don’t think I need to remind you that you have a family? If you weren’t already my soulmate and boyfriend, my parents would probably adopt you in a heartbeat.”

“I know, they treat me like a son-in-law,” Oliver whispers, fidgeting slightly.

“I wonder why?” Elio asks sarcastically and taps his temple with his index finger. “You kind of  _ are _ their son-in-law, you know.” He reaches out and runs his fingers through Oliver’s hair, messing up his hairstyle, which makes his soulmate look younger than his twenty-five years.

Oliver twists away and laughs. “You asked for it,” he says and tackles Elio back to the ground in a mockery of a fight. They continue their childish brawl for a short while until they’re both out of breath.

Oliver’s hair is messed up, several strands of it are falling into his face. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright. Elio thinks his soulmate has never looked as beautiful as he does now.

Oliver reaches out, tilting up Elio’s chin and leaning towards him. Elio closes his eyes and melts into it when Oliver kisses him just the way he likes. Elio smiles against Oliver’s lips, trying to get more comfortable on the blanket.

Elio settles half on top of Oliver, and he knows with fateful clarity that he’ll never ever get enough of being close to his soulmate.

Between slow, lazy kisses, Elio busies himself with unbuttoning Oliver’s shirt and exploring his soulmate’s torso with this fingers. He wants to teach his hands the shape of Oliver’s body, wants to remember every single inch of skin so that he could recognize him blind, by touch alone.

Elio pulls back slightly, just enough to look into Oliver’s eyes. He traces his soulmate’s lips with his index finger, and Oliver sucks on the tip of Elio’s finger for just a second before he releases it again, freeing it to finish mapping the contours of Oliver’s mouth.

“I love you,” Elio says since it’s the easiest and most natural way to put his feelings into words, as simple as it is true.

Oliver hums, his eyes are half-closed and he plucks something from Elio’s hair, which turns out to be a leaf. It must have gotten there during their mock-fight.

“Oliver?” Elio asks. “You… did you hear what I said?”

“Of course,” Oliver acknowledges. “I love you, too. In fact, I probably love you more,” he adds.

“Impossible,” Elio whispers and flushes.

Oliver shakes his head. “You have no idea,” he mumbles. “You really have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Elio grins and pulls Oliver close to him again so they can keep on kissing. The time passes quickly and before they know it, the sun is already setting.

“We should get back,” Oliver says, reaching for his discarded shirt. “They’re probably already wondering where we went.”

“Or we could stay here,” Elio says and demonstratively looks from one side to the other and raises an eyebrow. “You know, we never had sex outside before and the chance that anyone is going to come by and disturb us is practically nil.”

Oliver holds Elio’s gaze and raises an eyebrow. “Nobody’s going to disturb us, you said? But where would be the fun in that?”

After a bit of discussion, they decide to bike home, after Oliver insists that a bed is more comfortable than a meadow, if not quite as picturesque. On their way to the villa, the sky turns from blue to red and orange in the dusk, and shortly before nightfall, it’s a color which neither of them has seen before. They stop to look at it, trying to memorize it as best as they can, and when they look it up later, at home, they discover that the color is called ‘purple’.

That night, they fall asleep with ‘I love you’s on their lips and the certainty that, whatever the future may bring, they will face it together and they’re not going to let anything tear them apart.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished! Thank you so much for reading and, if you liked the fic and want to brighten my day, consider leaving a comment and/or kudos!

**Author's Note:**

>   * The title is inspired by the song ["Rainbow Connections"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MneRtx7x2vs) by Garfunkel and Oates, specifically, the lyrics "You have to stand between the rain and the sun to see a rainbow in the sky".
>   * The entire fic is very loosely inspired by the movie ["My Own Private Idaho"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Own_Private_Idaho). (Also, because someone asked me - Elio is not a sex worker, at least not in this fic. I wrote a fic with the sex worker trope, though, for another pairing. If you want to check it out: [The Oldest Profession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694028/chapters/23684652))
>   * The opening paragraph of "Snow White" was inspired by/adapted from [here ](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2591/2591-pdf.pdf?session_id=b89c0e388ba6cc1c01f5b3ef753313f8089a792f)(p. 111-117)
>   * **EDIT** : While I have seen the "seeing colors"-trope as a premise for a soulmate AU in couple of fandoms before, for me the most influential fic with that premise has definitely been [I know you're seeing black and white so I'll paint you a clear blue sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730526/chapters/20014432) (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves) by the lovely [JuliaBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins) who has given me permission to cite her work as inspiration for this fic - Thank you!
> 

> 
> This fic is now being translated into Russian by ao3 user mtib - you can find the translation here: <https://ficbook.net/readfic/7608698>
> 
> I can't make any promises with regards to an update schedule, but I'll try to update weekly!
> 
> Find me on tumblr:[@almost-annette](https://almost-annette.tumblr.com/)


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